That's creepy
by Gargoyle13
Summary: Galahad has to locate Tristran for Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

**All the usual disclaimers...I own no one and nothing, etc., etc., etc. **

**As usual, **_**italics**_** indicate thoughts. **

**This is written with the thought that Galahad was brought to Britain later than the others and so is relatively "green" so to say. It did not turn out as creepy as I had wanted, but I can no longer keep pondering on this. Others are becoming increasingly annoyed... Please do enjoy. **

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Galahad heaved a sigh as he trudged down the path. The moonlight dimmed around him and he looked up to see the clouds passing across the moon, concealing its light. "Stupid clouds," he muttered, tripping on an exposed tree root. "Why me?" he whined his misfortune to the rustling leaves and cool breeze, "Why? If Arthur wants to see Tristran, then why can't he go find him? Why do I have to?" He shook his head and cursed his own stupidity. Arthur had come to the tavern looking for Tristran for some urgent mission or discussion or something. Unfortunately, the elusive one had yet to make an appearance. The other Knights had seen Arthur, but being better seasoned, they gauged their commander was on an "official" visit and avoided him altogether. _Not me, I had to go over and talk to Arthur. Be friendly. Some advice, Lancelot. I'll get you back one day. That's how I get stuck out here searching for Tristran and they are all still at the tavern laughing and drinking... _

Finally, after many kicked stones, countless sighs and mingled curses, Galahad was at the open doors of the forge. The last known whereabouts of the scout. Well, one of the last. The Knights had been so kind as to suggest the two most likely places to find Tristran this evening: the forge or the cemetery. He was beginning to wonder if he'd chosen poorly and should have opted for the cemetery.

Galahad shivered despite the heat rolling out the doors. This was Bedwyr's domain. The old smith made him almost as uneasy as Tristran. They seemed to share the same humor; pleased by seeing those around them squirm. Well...he was only here to see if Tristran was. If not, then he would be on his way. It was not as if he had to stay around and converse with Bedwyr. Or listen to the elder Knight cackle. That laugh was enough to make the hairs on Galahad's neck stand straight up.

_Not going to find Tristran out here. _Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway and spied Gawain working at one of the benches, most likely fixing something small for the locals or Romans. Bedwyr was not yet confident enough in Gawain's skills to assign him any repairs to Sarmatian weapons. Galahad moved towards Gawain, seeing neither Bedwyr nor Tristran anywhere. "Gawain..." He called to his friend but received no acknowledgement. He realized Gawain was deeply focused on his task and stepped closer. He opened his mouth to call again and felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Galahad managed to stifle the scream but would have jumped the distance to Gawain's side. The hand on his shoulder not kept him in place. Galahad turned to see who it was.

"Bedwyr!" he yelped, disentangling himself from the grip of the highly amused Knight. "You scared me!" The cocked eyebrow and cackle told Galahad that had been the intent.

"What can I do for you, Galahad?" Bedwyr leaned in close so he could whisper; drawing out the boy's name, knowing it would make the younger recoil even further.

The effect was instant and exactly as desired. Galahad backed up quickly but cautiously, intent on keep Bedwyr in front of him. He was unaware that Gawain had finished hammering the heated metal and moved to a closer bench, directly behind him, in fact. Bedwyr, however, with his vantage point, was aware and rather delighted by this new turn of event. Even as Galahad continued back, heading straight for the man engrossed in work, Bedwyr said nothing.

"Galahad!" Gawain's voice boomed over the clatter of dropped tool, causing the former to turn and jump at the same time. Bedwyr howled in glee; Gawain cursed in an array of languages; Galahad tried to recover his breath and mind. Composing himself, Bedwyr stepped closer to inspect Gawain's work. He nodded approval, clapped the younger Knight on the shoulder and turned to Galahad. Taking the boy's arm, he led him back out the doors and into the cool air.

"You've provided quite enough entertainment for the evening," Bedwyr teased, "let us leave Gawain to his work and we can talk out here." He released Galahad and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Now, Galahad, what brings you here?"

"I am looking for Tristran." He hoped his voice didn't sound as shaky in Bedwyr's ears as it did in his.

"Tristran..." Bedwyr's voice trailed off and he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Tristran..." he repeated.

"I need to find him for Arthur."

"For Arthur…?" Bedwyr sounded intrigued. "What could Arthur want with our scout at this time of night..." Again his voice trailed off as he scratched the back of his arm.

Galahad, not known for his patience in the first place, was tired of this already. All he wanted was to know if Bedwyr had seen Tristran and if so, which way the scout had headed. If not, then...well...then he just wanted Bedwyr to say so and he could be off to search elsewhere.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to get Bedwyr's attention. It didn't work. Bedwyr kept scratching, seemingly oblivious to Galahad's mounting impatience. Finally, he could take no more. "Bedwyr, if you know where I can find Tristran, please tell me. I don't want to spend all night searching for him. I just want to find him, tell him that he needs to go to Arthur and then..." Now it was Galahad's turn to let his thoughts trail off. He hadn't really thought of what he would do once he found Tristran. Shaking his head, he refocused on the task at hand - finding Tristran.

Bedwyr sized up the young Knight as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He knew deep inside it was wrong to toy with the younger like this, but he could never resist. He glanced over his shoulder to be certain Gawain wasn't coming to meddle in his fun. Gawain had taken the youngster under his tutelage, helping him adjust to life at the Wall and protecting him as best as possible from Woads, Romans and the occasional ill-intentioned local. Unfortunately, in doing so, Gawain was helping Galahad preserve the very qualities Bedwyr was seeking to rid the boy of. Galahad was so young and innocent...and gullible. Qualities that, though Bedwyr found them likable and even refreshing in the boy did not make for a great Sarmatian Knight. Things like that made one an easy target for Roman swindling…or death at the hands of a crafty Woad.

Another sigh and shift from Galahad brought Bedwyr back to present. "So, looking for Tristran for Arthur," Bedwyr chuckled, "you, my boy, need to learn commander avoidance." He scratched his chin again. "I'll have to speak with Gawain about teaching you how to recognize..."

"Bedwyr!" The shout broke into the elder Knight's chatter. "Please, I am begging you, I just want to find Tristran, tell him to go to Arthur and then I can get on with my night."

The youth was becoming increasingly agitated. Precisely how Bedwyr had been hoping this would progress. _Now to push just a bit farther._ Bedwyr had to duck his head to mask the gleeful smile he felt rising.

He cleared his throat and spat the lump at Galahad's feet. "And where, Galahad," he drawled, "where is our good scout to meet Arthur?" He raised his eyes with the question.

Galahad's mouth opened to respond and snapped shut. He thought for a moment and opened his mouth, only to close it again just as quickly. _Looks like a damn fish on a line, _Bedwyr observed. _Goddess, I know it is wrong, but the boy is just too easy to have fun with. _He could barely contain his laughter.

"Close your mouth, Galahad, before you find a hook in it." Galahad's mouth obediently snapped shut. "The answer to the question is impertinent...Tristran is a scout and should be able to find Arthur wherever our esteemed commander is waiting." Bedwyr neglected to mention that the most likely place would be at the round table, since that was where Arthur discussed anything of importance. There were some things the boy should be able to figure out on his own.

"Now, as to the whereabouts of Tristran, well...he was here. But now he is not."

Galahad's astonishment faded quickly into anger. "You could not have told me this before? When I first asked, you could not have told me 'Well, Galahad, he was here but he left'?" As Galahad's voice rose in anger, Bedwyr's amusement level rose in kind and he struggled not to let it show on his face, quite unlike Galahad's visage of frustration.

Galahad tried to compose himself but failed miserably. He was shouting now. "Where is he? I have to find him, Bedwyr. I have to send him to Arthur. You have wasted my time! You have wasted Arthur's time! You have to help me find him! Now!" The last word came out as the shrill cry of a child just been denied something precious. Bedwyr raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if the youth would resort to stomping his feet as well. _Must tell Gawain to keep the boy further away from Lancelot._

"Well, Galahad, if you will cease your childish whining, perhaps I can point you in the right direction," Bedwyr commented as disinterestedly as he could manage.

Galahad ceased and looked expectantly at Bedwyr.

"Thank you." Bedwyr's sarcastic appreciation was apparent, but Galahad let it pass. _Just get the information and deliver the message_, he chanted over and over to himself.

"As I have told you, Tristran is not here. He was but now is not." Bedwyr leaned in and put his hands on Galahad's shoulders, pulling the boy forward so their foreheads almost touched. "I will tell you his whereabouts," the voice dropped to a whisper, ensuring he had Galahad's rapt attention, "but that is all I will do. You can ask nothing more. Deal?" Galahad was unnerved by the conditions on the answer, but he needed to find Tristran, so he vigorously nodded agreement.

"Good, good," Bedwyr seemed almost jovial now, sliding his arm around Galahad's shoulder and towing him alongside as he walked back toward the forge. Bedwyr's eyes were twinkling. "This night, as you are seeking Tristran, he is…otherwise occupied." His laughter was barely contained. Galahad's confusion mounted as Bedwyr's amusement grew. He was going to ask, but decided it was more important to simply be quiet and get the information. _I'll get him...one day, I will get him._

By now they had reached the doors of the forge and Bedwyr turned to Galahad, leaning in close and dropping his voice once again to a whisper. "He is with a woman. Seeking...well...what all men seek from a beautiful woman." He gave those words some consideration and added, "Well, possibly excluding you, Galahad, since we are uncertain you know what to do with a beautiful woman...or any woman, for that matter..." he added almost as an afterthought. Bedwyr wheezed as he laughed, noting the fury in the youthful face. "They left here nigh on an hour ago. She was completely taken with him." He paused to scratch his chin and consider his words. Bedwyr shrugged. "They were cuddling right over there," he pointed to a secluded corner of the courtyard, "and whatever she whispered in his ear, Tristran seemed very pleased with the idea and, well, off they went...cuddling and kissing…" He seemed thoroughly pleased with his description, especially after sneaking a peek at Galahad. The lad looked rather ill and uncertain as to how to proceed.

Galahad swallowed hard. "You mean that Tristran left here, with a woman?" Bedwyr nodded.

"A real, live woman?"

"Well, what other kind would there be, Galahad?"

"And you want me to find him and deliver a message to him while he is...well...ummm..." Galahad's voice trailed off. Even in the dim light from the forge, Bedwyr could see the deep crimson rising in the youth's cheeks.

"Oh no, Galahad, I do not want you to do anything" Bedwyr corrected, emphasizing the 'I', "Arthur is the one who asked you to find Tristran and deliver a message, not me." He laughed as he slapped the boy on the shoulder, almost knocking him to the ground. "And you would not want to disappoint our esteemed commander, now would you, Galahad?" With that, Bedwyr turned and strode back into the forge, humming a Sarmatian tune, leaving Galahad alone in the cool night with his new predicament.

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**A/N: Thanks to Ysolde for letting me borrow Bedwyr...but you can have him back. Now. Really – I am not joking. Please...take him already...make him leave!! I should also point out that Bedwyr actually is quite fond of Galahad – he just enjoys teasing him like the big brother who teases and torments in affection…**


	2. Chapter 2

All the usual disclaimers

**All the usual disclaimers...I own no one and nothing, etc., etc., etc. **

**As usual, **_**italics**_** indicate thoughts. **

**Follow on to chapter 1 – the aftermath of Galahad's poor piece of decision-making. Please, enjoy… And because Ysolde put forth the request for the aftermath chapter, I hope she will not mind if I steal her story-telling style. **

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**Dagonet relates**

Poor boy. I've told Bedwyr repeatedly that he taunts and teases too much; this time he has gone too far – even by his standards (whatever those may be). I fully intend to speak with him once I am certain Galahad is through vomiting.

Vanora has brought me the hot water I asked for so I can brew something to ease Galahad's stomach. If only there was something similar for his mind. I watch her as she pats the top of his head, as if he were one of her own children, before setting off to fill the tankards of drunken Romans.

The other Knights have moved to the far side of the tavern – wanting to stay away both from Galahad, in case he should he puke again, as well as me. They know I am not happy with what their trickery has caused. I can only shake my head. _If they think my anger is fierce, wait until Gawain gets word of this…_ The thought of Gawain rushing back here, huffing and bellowing, brings a slight smile to my face. _Agravaine would be proud. _

My thoughts snap back to the boy in front of me as he groans. I am uncertain if that means his stomach is not yet empty or if he is recalling his run-in with Tristran. Either way, it will be better if I move him to the alley – less people to gawk or whisper about his ordeal within his notice.

I offer my hand to him, helping him to stand. He looks unsteady as a newborn foal and I am betting he feels much the same. He looks at me wonderingly and I gesture to the alley. He still looks confused, but allows me to lead him out.

**Galahad relates**

I don't know why I did it. I mean, I know why I did it…but I don't know precisely why I did it. I should have known better with how amused Bedwyr was sending me on my way to find Tristran.

Maybe I didn't believe he was actually with a woman. I mean, this is Tristran, after all. I have seen the women in the tavern; they avoid him as though he were cursed. Even the whores – I am not certain how high of a price one of them would have to name to accompany him to his quarters. Maybe that was what made me do it – curiosity to see just what sort of woman would be in Tristran's company.

Who am I fooling? It was because Arthur assigned me to find Tristran with an urgent message. I am already too much a soldier for my liking, following orders blindly, resembling every other Roman slave.

I shake my head as Dagonet leads me out into the alley. Groaning loudly, I wish I hadn't as another wave of vomit rushes to the back of my mouth. Luckily, Dagonet is prepared and quickly moves out of the way, pushing me toward a wall so I can lean my forehead on the cold stone. It feels lovely against my burning skin.

When I am finished for the…I have lost count of what time this is, to be honest, Dagonet sits me on a step and hands me a tankard of warm liquid.

"Sip," he commands in his low voice.

I listen. The liquid trickles down and I cringe at the taste it leaves on my tongue. I want to spit but stop myself. It would be an insult to him and his healing abilities.

I continue to sip the liquid as he sits silently next to me. I am certain he will want to know what I saw that caused such illness but I sense he will wait until I am feeling a bit stronger. I am thankful for that. _He is definitely a Knight to stay on friendly terms with at all costs._

**Dagonet relates**

The boy sits and sips what I have brewed for his stomach. By his initial expression, I know it does not taste good but he does an admirable job of not letting it show. He just sips and sips. He is engrossed in watching the liquid make patterns in the mug. That is fine. I can wait until he is ready to talk. I have time. We all have time. Time is one of the things that we have aplenty on this island.

He clears his throat. Perhaps he is ready to speak of where Bedwyr sent him in his search for Tristran. None of us were able to get much out of him except a few mumbles of 'Tristran', 'woman', 'live', 'naked' and something that sounded like 'dagger'. The others were still laughing and cajoling the boy when I realized that he was looking pale and dazed; indications that he was about to empty his stomach.

I shake my head. I am an experienced healer but even I did not know one person could vomit so much. I don't know where all this content came from – he is not a large boy. I was waiting to see if the soles of his boots were going to be next. _Is this how sick the boy gets every time? _I let out a small sigh. For his sake, I hope not. _Otherwise it will be a long fifteen years of service for him… _

He sits a bit straighter next to me and I hear him quietly whisper thanks. I simply wave it off. He is a brother Knight and I would be a poor healer if I let him sit and suffer. Of course, were it of his own doing that he was vomiting so much…then I might consider letting him suffer a bit longer so he would learn his lesson. Little do I know that I will be enforcing those thoughts a bit too frequently for my liking in the coming years.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, a bit."

I want to pry and prod and dig to find out what he saw, what he knows, but fierce devotion to my own privacy holds my tongue.

**Galahad relates**

My stomach is feeling better. I think the combination of whatever awful liquid this is and the silent companionship has helped calm me. I am thankful Gawain was not here when I returned. _I love my brother, and know he only wants to look out for me, but sometimes he can be overbearing._

I swallow more of the liquid – what is this stuff anyway? – and clear my throat. Perhaps if I share what I saw with someone it will help. _Besides, they all know of Tristran's mating habits, right? _I mean, they have all lived here together for some time.

Swallowing another gulp, I mean sip, I look up toward the sky, trying to think of how to begin.

"I didn't realize he was serious, you know…"

The big man next to me shrugs. "Sometimes it is difficult to tell with Bedwyr when he is serious and when he is teasing; even after you have known him many years."

He appraises me quietly. "Would it have stopped you from going to find Tristran for Arthur had you known he was not joking?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Arthur wanted to speak with Tristran. I told him I would find Tristran and send him to him. What else could I do?"

"Precisely. And that is why you will, despite other opinions, make a good Knight one day."

I am not certain why, but that small bit swells my confidence. It also encourages me that despite all, I did the correct thing.

"Yes, you did the right thing. Which is not always the smartest thing. Remember that. Smart and right are not always one and the same."

_Smart and right not always the same._ I don't understand it but I am not going to argue it at this moment. I am simply thankful for the ear to listen.

He is silent again, waiting for me to continue. I take another sip of the vile liquid – why is it that everything that is good for you tastes so horrible? I cannot control my muscles this time as they react and contort my face into some ghastly expression. For his part, Dagonet pretends not to notice but I am fairly certain he gets some strange pleasure from my disgust. _Could it be that all my new brothers are twisted and insane in their own ways? Is this what this island does to reasonable men? That might go a ways toward explaining a few things about some of them… _

My thoughts trail off as he shifts on the step. Although he has shown great patience so far, I know every man has his limit and I fear Dagonet is reaching the end of his.

"Bedwyr told me that Tristran was not at the forge, only after he wasted a good amount of time not answering my question, I might add. Then when he did, all he said was that Tristran had left with some woman…Bedwyr said they were cuddling and kissing…" I shake my head in disbelief; I have seen Tristran on the battle field – cuddling and kissing are not things I picture him readily engaging in. I pause and notice that Dagonet's eyebrows have risen. _Perhaps I am wrong about them knowing anything about Tristran's affairs._

"So you decided to track him and the woman down?" There is a level of incredulity in his voice that almost borders on admiration.

I nod as I take another sip and gag. _Damn this liquid. Can one become sick from something that is supposed to heal?_ Before I can form an answer, I hear a soft chuckle next to me.

"Oh Galahad…"

"What? I did the right thing, right?"

The chuckle is now a laugh. "Yes, in a manner of speaking, but you do need to learn when the right thing is really the wrong thing."

I look at Dagonet, thoroughly confused. How can completing an errand for your commanding officer be the wrong thing when earlier he said it was the right thing?

He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, still highly amused, and encourages me to continue. I look doubtful but he nods through his mirth, motioning for me to continue talking as he takes the mug of now cold liquid (the cooler it becomes the viler it seems to taste) and sets it on the ground.

"Umm…" I have momentarily lost my thoughts and pause to regain them. Damn, he took the mug. It tasted horrible but gave me something to fidget with.

"Oh yes, I left the forge to track down Tristran…" My voice trails off as the memories come flooding back. The dark path where at times I swore there was only one set of footprints _(Could he actually have been carrying her? Why?)_; the double-back to the forge _(Had he been listening to Bedwyr and me?)_; ending up at the door to some strange room with even stranger noises coming from inside. I shiver involuntarily as the sounds come rushing back to my ears.

"I finally tracked him down at some room – I am guessing his companion's room. I knocked but there was no answer. I wasn't sure what to do, Dagonet. I really wasn't." I shake my head remembering the indecision as I stood at the door. I had needed to alert Tristran that Arthur was seeking his counsel, but at the same time, it was a rather awkward situation.

He nods his head, sympathizing. "That would have been a tricky situation for any of us, not just you, Galahad. You want to deliver your message, have been told it is urgent but find yourself in a most…delicate…predicament."

_Yes, yes…delicate indeed. _Too bad I had witnessed anything but a delicate predicament. I snort, a habit I have picked up from Gawain, and wrestle the sickness I feel rising so I can continue.

"Well, I am not certain how…umm…delicate it was. I swear, Dagonet, I did not want to open the door, but I had to." He nods in understanding. "I…umm…well…" I scratch the back of my head, uncertain how to relay what I saw. Taking a deep breath, I decide that I cannot say it any way other than how I saw it.

"She…he…they…" I begin haltingly, looking down at my boots, "umm…I know it will shock you, Dagonet, but I am relatively inexperienced with women…" I glance upward and he diverts his eyes quickly. _A little too quickly. And is that a chuckle I hear being suppressed? _I am on the verge of defending my manhood when I remember Gawain's advice: _just don't say anything, Galahad, until you have something __to__ defend. _So I simply clear my throat and pretend not to have seen the amusement. Dagonet does much the same, clearing his throat and motioning me to continue.

"Well…I am not certain the customs or preferences of the women of Britain, but I think that most women do not wish to have a dagger anywhere near their body. For that matter, neither do most men… Tristran had a dagger... She was naked and the sounds she was making…I swear, Dagonet, I have never heard a woman make such noises before. And the way she was wrapped around him…" I shudder at the images emblazoned in my mind and look at Dagonet, waiting for confirmation that I am not crazy; he is staring at me, wide-eyed and slack mouthed. I shrug and continue.

"He noticed me in the doorway. I am not sure…I mean, I know he knew I was there but he didn't react, Dagonet. Didn't do anything…well, anything except what he had already been doing. She, well, she seemed to be enjoying herself too greatly to pay notice to anything else. At least until he paused. Then she noticed. I almost think she snarled at me, Dag, I really do. Like some animal. Then she threw a mug at my head… She missed. Not by much, but she missed."

I pause and rub the side of my head where the contents from the thrown mug had splashed my hair. I brought the fingers to my nose and inhaled…smelled like mead, but one could never be certain.

**Dagonet relates **

I could not believe that Galahad had actually witnessed Tristran with a woman. And lived to tell. I don't think the boy realizes how close to death he came this night. I am not certain but I am guessing that the only thing that saved him was…well…actually I am not at all certain what saved him.

_What in all of Sarmatia is he doing? _I notice he is rubbing the side of his head and smelling his hand. _Is this some strange __Izyghen custom?_ _I have seen Lancelot do something similar... _I run my hand over my face in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Rubbing my jaw, I am not quite certain what to say to the boy. I feel as though I should warn him about Tristran, but if he did not skin the boy in the doorway…

I stop rubbing my jaw when I hear snickers from the doorway, accompanied by various choking and gagging noises. I look up and realize that the rest of the Knights are standing there and, judging by the mix of expressions, have been for some time.

The ones who can speak are cajoling Galahad with various remarks about his bedroom prowess, or lack thereof. I have tuned them out, not wanting to listen to them tease the boy any longer. Besides, I am pondering how Tristran will react when he finds out everyone knows. Because he will. Not due to any great scouting and snooping abilities; simply because one (and most like more) of my brothers will not be able to keep their mouths shut. _Oh no, Tristran will not be happy about this._

As if on cue, the Shadow appears from around the corner. He moves toward the group with a silent, cold glare and they collectively take a large step back. His privacy has been intruded upon; he is irritated. I am on-guard as he is headed toward Galahad. I move forward slightly, silently letting Tristran know that I will step in to protect the boy if necessary. Our eyes meet for a second and I am reassured that he means the boy no physical harm. Tristran is aggravated but also knows Galahad's intrusion was not without purpose. _That is what saved him – he was on an errand from Arthur and not simply being a snoop._

Stopping in front of Galahad, who, to his credit, has not slunk off to a corner to hide but who has tried, unsuccessfully, to become one with the stair he sits on, Tristran simply stands for a moment and glares at the other assembled Knights, backing them further away. He leans down so that his nose touches Galahad's and whispers something meant only for Galahad's ears. No matter how I strain, I am unable to make out the quiet, gravelly threat being conveyed. Galahad becomes impossibly paler. _Don't vomit on him, Galahad. Oh Goddess, please don't let him vomit on Tristran… _I know that if he does that, all bets are off and I will not be able to get to him before Tristran cuts his throat; the only person I have seen vomit on Tristran and survive was Bors' youngest daughter.

Tristran must be done with whatever he has to say because Galahad is slowly nodding his head. He stands back to his full height, throws another cold glare at the gawkers and, turning to leave, gives me a slight nod before vanishing back down the alleyway. I stand rigid and silently contemplate the myriad of things Tristran might have chosen to threaten Galahad with should the latter even contemplate invading his privacy again.

I sigh deeply and return to the present when I hear the cries of "Galahad!" "Dagonet!" and hear the unmistakable sound of vomit splashing the paving stones. It is going to be a long fifteen years indeed.


End file.
